


London Calling Part 3

by TheFutureMrsCapaldi



Series: London Calling [3]
Category: In the Loop (2009) & The Thick of It
Genre: F/M, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFutureMrsCapaldi/pseuds/TheFutureMrsCapaldi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm decides to give you a surprise...</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Calling Part 3

I had just returned to the hotel room Malcolm had provided for me, exhausted by that day’s seminar. The sight that greeted me when I opened the door made me freeze with shock. A small, cloth-covered table had been placed at the end of one of the beds, laden with what looked to be gourmet dishes. A single lit candle was in the center of it, and Malcolm was standing there wearing a button-down white shirt and khaki pants, holding a bottle of wine. The shirt was unbuttoned partway, and I could see a few chest hairs protruding from it.

“What on Earth is THIS?” I asked him. “I had a fucking shit day at the office,” he replied. “Nobody knows how to do their fucking jobs, even when I tell them how. But, instead of going home and getting fucking shattered out of my fucking mind, I decided to give you a treat.” On the words “a treat,” he began pouring the wine in his hand into two glasses. “I decided to cook you a fucking FANTASTIC dinner, and I’m going to give you a Boyfriend Day.”

“What’s a Boyfriend Day?” I said, placing my briefcase on the spare bed. “A Boyfriend Day, my dear, is where I pretend to be your boyfriend, not just some guy you’ve been fucking the last couple days. Quite simply, I’m going to be the nicest fucking guy you’ve ever known.” I took off my suit jacket and placed it on top of the briefcase. Then, I sat down on one of the chairs at the table, and he joined me on the opposite side. He served me and himself from the dishes, and prepared to eat.

“Do you mind if I say a quick prayer?” I asked him. He looked a little surprised, but said no, and I said the Catholic blessing, making the sign of the Cross before and after it. “Thank you,” I said as I picked up my fork. “I had no idea you were Catholic,” he told me as he lifted his own fork. “It didn’t exactly come up in conversation,” I told him, smiling. “Then again, we haven’t done much talking since we met.” He smiled back, and I took my first bite of food.

My eyes involuntarily closed, and I nearly moaned with the pleasure of how good the food was. “Seriously, YOU cooked this, Malcolm? This is AMAZING!” “Yes, well, I took a few cooking classes in my younger days, I like to keep my hand in when the occasion arises.” I tried the next dish, and again, it was phenomenal. I took my time eating, savoring the flavors of each item. The wine was incredible as well, and though I don’t normally drink, I found myself having a second glass, which of course Malcolm poured for me.

We talked about how each other’s day went, and I told him how boring that day’s lecturer had been. “Normally I love hearing British people speak,” I said, “but this guy’s adenoidal droning… it was torture.” “Oh, you poor thing,” he commiserated. “Let me make you feel better.” He rose from his chair, placing the napkin he’d had on his lap onto the table. Then he came around behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. He began massaging them, his long, slender fingers gently kneading the muscles. “Mmmm, that feels nice,” I said. He bent down and whispered into my ear, “I know how it could feel nicer. Take your clothes off, and I’ll give you a REAL massage.” I got a little damp, feeling his breath against my ear, plus the implications of what he’d said.

I started unbuttoning my shirt, my nipples already growing hard inside my bra. I saw him looking at me, a slightly hungry stare that couldn’t have been satisfied with the meal we’d just consumed. I dropped the blouse to the floor, then unzipped my skirt, which joined the shirt quickly. I started to reach around my back to unfasten the bra, but Malcolm said, “Here, let ME do that.” He got behind me, and as he undid each hook, he kissed the area of skin which had been uncovered. The stubble on his lips and cheeks tickled, and I felt myself twitching with anticipation.

Once the last hook had been unfastened, he dropped the bra. I wanted his hands on my breasts immediately, but instead he knelt down and started pulling at the waistband of my panties, which were rather soaked by this time. Slowly, gently, he guided them down, kissing my butt and the backs of my legs as they lowered. I whimpered, and heard him give a low chuckle. “Malcolm, what are you DOING?” I moaned, “I’m not sure I can take much more of this. I need you NOW.”

“Not yet,” he replied, “you still have your massage coming.” Walking around me until he’d gotten back in front, he looked at me, up and down. I could feel his gaze on my skin, caressing me with their touch. I closed my eyes, thoroughly enjoying the sensation. When I opened them again, he was no longer in front of me, but kneeling beside the bed. From under it he pulled a bowl of slightly steaming water, in which was a bottle of baby oil. “Lie down on the bed, face down,” he said. I walked past him, barely restraining myself from attacking him, but curious to see where this would lead.

As I got into place, I heard him start to undress. I turned my head to watch as he did, relishing the appearance of him, especially where I could see the bulge in his pants growing. He saw me looking, and smiled. “Not yet, not yet. You still need your massage.” “You’re making me tenser the more I have to wait!” I whined, and his smile grew wider. “Don’t worry, you’ll enjoy this, I promise,” he reassured me. He pulled the bottle of oil out of the water, and climbed into bed with me, straddling my butt. I turned my head as far as I could to see what he was doing.

I could feel his erection lying on my back, long and hard. I was dying to have him in me, but I knew he’d only refuse. He poured a little of the warm oil onto his palm, rubbed his hands together, and put them onto my neck. He smoothed and caressed it onto my skin, gently kneading the muscles. I could feel the tension of the day seeping away as he did, while simultaneously causing more tension in muscles below my waist. Malcolm moved to my shoulders, sensuously pressing his fingertips into them. I moaned and wriggled underneath him. This was tortuous, having him make me feel this good when I couldn’t reach him to do the same.

Then, I had a thought. I moved my right hand behind my back, just managing to reach his hardness with my fingertips. I stroked him lightly, his hands momentarily froze, and I heard him moan. I felt him drip just a few drops onto my back before he brushed my hand away. “Patience, dear, I’m not quite finished yet.” I put my hands under my chin, trying to be obedient. After all, this was his gift to me, being this caring. I didn’t want to spoil it for him. He began massaging me again, moving down my back. His hands glided up and down, and I began to arch my back with the sensation. Gasping now, I had to make fists to restrain myself from flipping him off me and attacking him.

“God, you’re killing me,” I moaned. “I want you so bad.” “Trust me, I’m not having an easy time of it myself, but I’m determined to finish this,” he replied in a choked voice. He scooted backwards so he could massage my buttocks, pressing them together, squeezing them with his fingers. He was sitting on my calves now, and I pushed myself upward with my arms, turning around to watch his face. He had an intense expression of concentration, but was also smiling at my reactions to his ministrations. I lowered myself again, this time resting my head on my forearms. At least he was feeling SOMETHING of the same frustration I was. Still, my twitching, aching body begged for him to do what IT wanted.

He then started on my thighs and calves, which were exhausted from the high heels I’d worn that day. He paused only to get more oil, which was still warm from the water in which it had been. His hands moved all over my legs, and I squirmed with pleasure. His fingers were toward the insides of my thighs, almost unintentionally teasing me into a fiery passion. Gasping, moaning, I resumed my begging. “If you don’t stop that,” he chided, “I may have to put a gag in your mouth.” “I wish you’d put something ELSE there instead,” I whimpered, and he groaned. “Please, don’t do this. I want to finish the massage. I promise you’ll get what you want soon,” he replied. “In that case, you may HAVE to gag me,” I said with a smile.

His blue eyes nearly glowed when I said that. He grabbed the necktie he’d been wearing earlier that day, which was on the bedside table. With a look of mischievousness, he approached me and placed the middle of the tie in my mouth, fastening it at the back of my head with a knot. I’d never been gagged before, and the novelty of it both amused and aroused me. I looked at him, and he could tell by my eyes what I was feeling. He grinned seductively, and said “You can lie on your back now. It’s time I massaged your front.”

I flipped over with a speed I hadn’t thought possible, my legs wide apart. “No, no, still not yet. But soon. Your massage is almost done.” He pushed my legs back together and sat on my shins, preventing me from spreading for him again. Incredibly, he was still hard after all this time. I wasn’t happy that I still had to wait, but at least I could watch him comfortably now. He started massaging the fronts of my thighs, using the same long, sensual strokes he’d been using on the backs. Every time he moved up toward my pubis, my head arched back, and I nearly screamed into the gag in my mouth. I watched him, his toned, muscular body working to relax me, while all the time I could tell he was becoming more tense himself. He was obviously as desperate as I was by this time, but was restraining himself admirably.

I put my hands under my lower back this time, trying a little self-restraint. I pretended he’d cuffed ME this time, and that thought nearly drove me mad. I withdrew my hands, reaching for him. “Handcuffs,” I mumbled into the gag. “It’s the only way.” I don’t know how he managed to understand me, but apparently he did because he withdrew from me and went to the bedside table drawer, where we’d left them the last time we’d used them. He rolled me onto my front, securing my hands behind me with the cuffs, then replaced me on my back. Repositioning himself, this time on my thighs, he caressed my abdomen and sides, using the same up and down strokes.

His erection was lying on top of my pubis and lower belly now, driving me insane. I watched him dripping into my navel as he worked on me, and could feel the metal of the cuffs biting into my wrists as I involuntarily struggled against them. He moved his hands to my breasts now, encircling them with his fingers, his thumbs gently stroking my nipples, which were diamond-hard and very sensitive. I nearly came then, biting the gag with all my might. I looked again into his beautiful blue eyes, seeing the intensity there. He saw the need in my face, and smiled. “Are you ready?” he asked, and I thought my head would come off as hard as I nodded.

He got up off me, then off the bed, moving to the end of it. He spread my legs with an agonizing slowness, then lifted my knees so that I was fully parted for him. He climbed between my legs until we were aligned, then placed his hands on the sides of my hips and raised them. I closed my eyes, anticipating the sensation of his entry. I was tight, wet, desperate for him. I felt his left hand go to my buttocks as he used his right to position himself. He parted me with the head, rubbing it on my swollen clitoris. I screamed with ecstasy into the gag, coming immediately after all the teasing I’d undergone, but still wanting more. He kept rubbing me, up and down from my clit to my vagina, much the same way I’d done with him the first time.

My head was thrashing back and forth in wild abandon, a mindless, animalistic sound coming from me. He stopped a moment, and I regained my senses long enough to mumble around the gag, “you fucking tease.” “You want me to stop teasing you?” he answered, and I whimpered in reply. “Fine, I’m going to do something with you we haven’t yet, something I don’t really think I’ve done with anyone.” My eyebrows shot up, a little concerned what he had in mind. “I’m going to make love to you,” he said quietly.

He guided himself down, and slowly, gently penetrated me at just the right angle. I felt tingling sensations throughout my body, and tears came to my eyes at the thought of what he was doing both to me and for me. He moved slowly in and out, caressing my breasts, and kissing my cheek each time before he withdrew himself. I felt him pressing against that most sensitive spot again and again, and began moving my hips in time with his, squeezing myself around him each time I felt him entering. His breathing quickened, as did the intensity of his movements.

“Oh God, that feels so good,” he said, a look of wonder on his face. “I didn’t know it could feel like that.” Thrust after thrust, I could feel him swelling with the sensations we were both experiencing. He and I were both close to coming, and I watched his face as long as I could before the crashing, mind-blowing waves of orgasm washed over me. At the same time they began, I heard him cry out, thrusting harder and harder, until his juices entered me. I could feel him penetrating me to my core, and just as our mutual pleasure subsided, he collapsed on top of me, breathing hard.

Once he regained a tiny fraction of his strength, just enough to roll off me and lie beside me, I began to weep at the beauty of what had just happened. He rolled me onto my side so I could face him, and wiped my tears with the palm of his hand. Then he put his arms around me, and held me. I think he might have been weeping too, but I can’t be sure. We lay there for a while, until a mutual exhaustion overtook us both. God only knows how, but I managed to fall asleep in his arms, my hands still cuffed and the gag still in my mouth. That was the most wonderful experience I’d ever had with a man, and I was grateful to him for letting me have it. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.


End file.
